Apart
by Numbatstuff
Summary: Jacob & Rachel are struggling with their second lonely week of separation. Poor things!


Apologies for this story taking a little long, and apologies that it's probably not the story you wanted to read.

But as the second lonely week of separation continues. I thought it was important for us to see how Jacob and Rachel are feeling as they struggle through this difficult time. The first half of the story is from Rachel's perspective, the second from Jacob's.

They each have their own soundtrack, which I have included as part of the story so you will discover them as you read.

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Rachel let herself into her Chicago hotel room and threw her jacket over the back of a chair. She slammed the door behind her, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and burst into tears. She leaned backwards against the door and slid slowly downwards until she was sitting on the floor, knees bent, face in her hands.

And there she sat, crying silently, fiercely, angrily until she had no more tears left to cry.

Eventually, she held her hands up in front of her and stared at her palms.

'I would like to use these hands to strangle that fucking woman,' she thought. 'What a fucking bitch she is.'

'And how dare she make me cry. I don't fucking cry. I could eat her for breakfast. Stupid bitch.'

'Jacob wouldn't put up with that shit from her. He wouldn't let her treat me like that.'

But the thought of him just made her sad.

It wasn't bad enough that FBI Deputy Director, Madeline Cox was rude and officious, but she seemed to think that Rachel was her PA. She had spent the last 5 days following her around, carrying her notes, buying her coffee; double soy latte 'because dairy gives me terrible gas', making appointments and fielding her phone calls. And when there was finally an opportunity to do some actual 'executive protection' it mainly involved standing around providing security detail. There was no investigative work, all she did was go to meetings and attend functions and speak at conferences.

And she didn't understand why the stupid bitch had to be so unnecessarily supercilious. Jacob hated people like her. She longed to have him with her when Ms Cox gave her a grilling – she imagined him standing there, hands in pockets, completely unimpressed by her words. He'd just raise his eyebrows at her, tilt his head and wander off.

Rachel smiled. 'Oh, that would make her angry, wouldn't it.'

She imagined him walking alongside her sometimes, commenting quietly in her ear, "Can't you just imagine her head floating in one of those cryogenic tanks?"

She knew when she boarded the plane to Chicago that she'd miss him every evening when she was in her hotel room, alone. But she didn't realise how much she'd miss him at work. He was like her other half now, and operating without him felt strange and uncomfortable.

She was used to looking at him for explanation, for advice, for reassurance. She was used to keeping one hand on her gun in case anyone made a move on him. She was used to his humour and his quick wit, his compassion and gentleness with people. She was used to the look on his face when his mind was working, processing facts, making connections, the look on his face when he was on Planet Hood.

What was it that he'd said to her all those months ago, back when she asked him why he waited so long to tell her of his feelings? He'd said that if all he could do was work with her for the rest of his life, he'd choose that over losing her.

She understood what he meant now.

As fantastic as the sex was, as wonderful as it was to hold his big, warm body and kiss him and feel his arms wrapped around her and look into his eyes; what she really missed was his companionship, his presence, his smile, him.

Shit, she even missed his jackets.

What if the solution was to break off their personal relationship so they could keep working together? At least she would see him every day, could be with him and talk with him, laugh with him.

The risk if they persevered with their personal relationship but it ultimately didn't work, was that they would be split apart personally _and_ professionally and she would never see him again.

She burst into tears again, sadly this time, desperately.

Her cell phone started ringing in the pocket of her jacket. She rubbed the tears off her face and got to her feet, walked the couple of steps to the chair and retrieved her phone. Thank god it wasn't Ms 'Pain in the Cox'. It was Jess.

"Hey Jess," she answered, trying to sound in control.

"Hey Rach, how's life in sunny Chicago?"

Rachel snorted, "it absolutely sucks here. It's cold, my job sucks, my new boss sucks, and being alone sucks. I – just – hate - it." And she broke down again.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? I've never heard you upset like this. This isn't like you Rach. Tell me everything, love."

In much greater detail, Rachel told her about the terrible time she'd been having in Chicago and how much she missed having Jacob around her. She tried not to cry too much, but she couldn't help it.

As she spoke & sobbed, she got changed out of her work gear, put on her socks and warm pyjamas, and poured herself a glass of red wine from the bottle she'd bought a few days ago from the supermarket. She got into bed and snuggled under the blankets while she talked to her friend.

"I just miss him so much Jess, I don't understand it, you know I'm not normally emotional like this," she sniffed. "But I'm worried that if I make the wrong choice, or if we don't sort out this fight then I'm going to lose him completely. Surely it would be better to at least work with him. Maybe I should never have got involved with him personally.

I knew it was a bad idea when I saw him in the bar that night. I should have stuck with my instincts and just driven him straight home. We'd probably be on a case right now and we'd be together, at least I'd know he was in the next room. At least I could look at his face and talk to him."

"Oh sweetheart, I hate hearing you like this. But you know what I think you should do. I don't even know why you're sitting there alone in Chicago when you could be with him in Geneva."

"Because I have to work Jess. The Director personally assigned me to this job so I have to finish it."

"Mmmm, so you said. But it's still just a job. And you aren't even enjoying it. I'm worried Rachel, this just isn't you. Where's my gutsy friend gone." She suddenly started laughing.

"Jess, it's not funny, I'm really worried that…"

"No Rachel, it's not that, guess what's just started on TV?"

"I don't care what's just started on TV! Are you even listening to anyth…………."?

"No, listen, it's Bridget Jones' Diary. And poor Bridget is sitting in her pyjamas drinking red wine and listening to that song." She started singing, "when I was young, I never needed anyone, making love was just for fun, those days are gone…"

Rachel sniffed and started singing along with her; "all by myself, don't wanna be, all by myself…"

"Oh my god, you've finally turned into Bridget Jones, Rachel!!"

Rachel tried to laugh, she remembered the scene, Bridget was singing into a rolled up magazine. She laughed and cried at the same time, "I have, I'm just like her, and I've got socks and pyjamas on!!!"

They laughed and talked for a little while longer and Rachel cried a bit more.

"And I can't believe what I wrote in that letter, Jess. I accused him of carrying on with Anna behind my back and of lying to me about her, and Frank, and his feelings. I told him we should go back to the beach house and finish the fight there whatever the outcome ultimately is. I told him that I used to know what our future was but now I have no idea.

What if he decides that I obviously don't want him anymore after what I wrote, and he goes off and finds someone else in Geneva? What if he decides that it's not worth coming back and stays there and I never see him again? What if Anna is right and I've broken his heart. I can't bear to think of him alone and sad. What if he goes back to her again?"

"Wow, that's a lot of what-ifs Rachel. He won't go back to Anna though. If he wanted Anna, he would have her by now. If they've known each other for all that time, he's had ample opportunity to choose her and he never has because he doesn't love her. He loves you."

That made her sob.

"Listen Rach. I hate to leave you like this but I need to go and tuck the girls in bed. I'm sorry I haven't been able to make you feel any better though."

"That's ok Jess, you know you always make me feel better."

"Well anyhow, I think you've earned yourself a night of shameless wallowing. Every girl deserves to sit around in her pyjamas and drink wine and cry every once in a while."

"I don't understand it though Jess. I don't remember ever feeling this emotional. This just isn't me."

"Don't worry my love, it comes to us all in the end. You enjoy it, find yourself a big old weepie movie to watch and crack out some chocolate from the mini bar.

And then in the morning, when you're feeling rational and Rachel like again, I want you to ring me and we'll work out exactly how you're going to handle this situation so you don't have to worry about never seeing him again. Because I'm telling you now, that will be happening over my dead body. You know I've already picked out my bridesmaid's dress and I'm looking forward to getting really pissed and dancing on the table at your wedding. And I want to see that gorgeous man in a wedding suit."

Rachel started crying again, "thanks Jess, I'll call you in the morning. You're a good friend."

"I know I am. And the first round of cocktails is on you next time I see you."

They finished up the call and Rachel got out of bed and fetched her laptop from the desk. She looked up the Bridget Jones scene on youtube, which made her laugh a little. But she knew exactly how Bridget was feeling.

She logged on to itunes and downloaded the song. Listened to it a couple of times. Then she remembered another one like it, that old Harry Nilsson song, what was it? She did a search on him and found the song she was looking for.

She downloaded it and lay, listening & singing along. It just made her feel even worse.

"No I can't forget this evening

Or your face as you were leaving

But I guess that's just the way

The story goes

You always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows

Yes it shows

............

No I can't forget tomorrow

When I think of all my sorrow

Well I had you there but then I let you go

And now it's only fair that I should let you know

What you should know

............

I can't live

If living is without you

I can't live

I can't give anymore"

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror opposite the bed, eyes red, face wet & puffy from crying, drinking wine and singing all alone to her ipod, 'how pathetic are you Rachel? What would Jacob think if he could see you now?'

In the end she decided that she didn't really care. It was his fault in the first place and he wasn't even here. Besides, if she wanted to have an evening wallowing, as Jess so lovingly put it, she damn well would, and she cranked up her ipod so she could sing along to Harry one more time.

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Jacob sat in the quiet hotel bar and stared morosely into his glass of bourbon. 'How much alcohol was it possible to drink and still function at your job on a day to day basis,' he wondered. 'How little sleep was it possible for the human body and mind to function on, on a long term basis?' He really should already know the answers to both of these questions, in fact he probably did. But his mind felt dull and sluggish. Not enough sleep and too much booze were starting to take their toll. He could feel it in his mind and in his body; he could see it in the mirror.

"You're not looking the best tonight Dr Hood, is everything ok?" enquired the young Swiss barman, politely.

Jacob laughed, "that's not much of a way to talk to customers Bruno. You're supposed to tell me I'm looking well, get me to drink more."

The young blonde man laughed, "I probably would if this was my bar, but I'm just a poor student as you know Dr Hood. I'd rather you looked after yourself properly."

He wiped the bar down as he talked, topped up the bar snacks. There weren't many other customers in that night so he was free to chat.

"What's on your mind Dr Hood? You look troubled. More troubled than usual. You don't have any company tonight?"

Jacob sighed, "Please Bruno, call me Jacob. And believe me, company is the last thing I need right now. It's women, Bruno, I just don't understand women."

The barman shook his head sympathetically. "That's not the first time I've heard that lament."

"Listen Bruno, you have to understand that I have no problem with strong women. I've grown up with strong women, I've studied with strong women, I've worked with strong women. I love strong women. I love women who know who they are, know what they want. Women who are comfortable in their own skin.

But sometimes you know, I just don't understand what they want from us.

They want us to love them, they want us to care for them, but we aren't allowed to care for them enough that we would worry about them. We're supposed to sit back and watch them risk their lives because they want to be independent and strong. But don't they understand how it kills us. When we love them with every fibre of our being, how can they expect us to watch them risk their lives day after day?

Surely being a man is supposed to mean something, but we don't seem to be of any consequence to them whatsoever."

Bruno raised his eyebrows, questioningly. "What does being a man mean though, Jacob? How would you define a man?"

"Well, right now I'd define a man as that poor confused bastard sitting in the corner."

"I'm with you there," Bruno laughed.

"And I don't understand women, or men for that matter I suppose, who let their jobs define who they are. My job doesn't define me Bruno. I'm still me whether I work for the FBI or if I worked here at CERN or if I worked at a university or if I worked at freaking McDonalds for fuck sake. I'm still Jacob Hood. I'm still a learner, a solver, a thinker, whatever job I do. That doesn't change who I am. Why can she not understand that she is still Rachel Young, strong, independent, no-nonsense, rational, clever, ballsy woman, regardless of what she does? Why does she need to run around waving a gun? What is she trying to prove? Who is she trying to convince?"

He rubbed his hands over his face. "And don't even get me started on the talking Bruno. How they expect us to open up and talk to them, while they say nothing of any consequence to us! And how they get together and talk about us when we're not even there, tell each other things that we thought were long hidden, and then they use it against us, start questioning our motivations, start questioning our feelings for them. Do they not understand that we love them so much more than they will ever love us? What happened to love conquering all Bruno?"

He squeezed his temples tightly and groaned, "I think I just need to sleep."

"I think you might be right Jacob. You're looking tired. How about I get you a nice cold bottle of water. It might do you good to lay off the whiskey for a while."

Jacob laughed, "you are absolutely the worst bar man ever Bruno. What is it that you're studying?"

"Medicine. And as your doctor, I need to prescribe you a good nights sleep and plenty of non-alcoholic fluids."

He smiled, "a big cold bottle of water is probably exactly what I need. Make sure you give me some ice and lemon though, then I can pretend it's a gin & tonic."

Bruno looked at his watch, "I'm off in 2 minutes. Lets go and sit over there and I'll join you for a bottle of water. I've got half an hour to kill before I meet Taylor at the Mandarin."

"Ha, that's my hotel, I'll walk up there with you when it's time. Then maybe I'll get an early night."

They sat on the elegant couches and chatted amiably. Bruno told him of his plans for the future, he wanted to get into medical research.

"Well," Jacob said, raising his eyebrows. "Do you know what Bruno? Before this week I would have told you that research was a fantastic area to get into. But compared to the work I've been doing for the last 18 months or so, I'm not so sure any more. The Collider is a fascinating project, don't get me wrong, but I have to say that these 10 days have been an eye opener for me.

I guess I've started to enjoy the variety of challenges that the FBI job throws up. I learn something everyday and surprisingly, I actually enjoy the human interaction, even when it's not pleasant.

That's something you need to think about. You seem to me to be a people person, Bruno. Medical research will see you locked away in a lab 7 days a week crunching numbers with other research types."

He took a long drink of water.

"I thought field work was getting too much for me to cope with, the danger, the heartache, seeing people die, getting to know their families. But I've actually missed it this last couple of weeks.

If I were you, I'd try practicing medicine first before you bury yourself away in a research lab. I think interaction with patients would suit you much better. You're a nice guy."

Bruno smiled at him. "Thankyou Jacob, that's a very nice thing to say. Mind you, I have to graduate first!"

He looked at his watch. "Come on, I'm meeting Taylor outside the club at the Mandarin in 10 minutes. Apparently it's retro night. Might be right up your alley."

"Oh, I doubt that," Jacob laughed.

They walked briskly up the street, chatting in the cold night air and he felt the blood starting to pump around his body with the exercise. He realised it had been a good while since he'd had any real exercise and the brisk wind reminded him of the bracing sea. He was looking forward to getting home and swimming and seeing Rachel.

When they reached the Mandarin and walked through the foyer to the nightclub entrance, Jacob was surprised to see a dark haired young man waiting outside. Bruno walked up to him and they embraced. He kissed him on the cheek and introduced him to Jacob as Taylor.

Jacob shook his hand and smiled.

"You thought Taylor was a girl didn't you Dr Hood," Bruno teased.

"Absolutely," he answered laughing, "and there I was taking to you about women. You must think I'm a complete moron."

"No, not at all. But my advice to you is to find yourself a boyfriend. They're much less hassle." He winked.

Jacob laughed as the two young men made their way into the club.

The club was playing retro 80's techno pop and he recognized the song that was playing. His Russian friend, Sergei, had been into techno, anything out of Britain & Europe especially, and used to drag Jacob out to clubs with him. New Order's Blue Monday, how could he forget that classic, he thought as he listened.

He smiled at the thought of the 80's being back in fashion. The next song he heard was familiar too with it's cats wail synthesiser, and he moved a little further into the doorway of the club to listen. It was a song he must have heard a hundred times back then, but when he heard the words again, they made the hair on the back of his neck stand up

"When you're in love, you know you're in love

No matter what you try to do

You might as well resign yourself

To what you're going through

If you're a hard man or if you're a child

It still might get to you

Don't kid yourself you've seen it all before

A million mouths have said that too

............

I've had my hard times in the past

I've been a husband and a lover too

I've lain alone and cried at night

Over what love made me do

And the loved ones who let me down

And couldn't share my point of view

But this is Phil talking, I wanna tell you

What I've found to be true

............

I love your love action

Lust's just a distraction

No talking, just looking

Watching your love action

............

I believe, I believe what the old man said

Though I know that there's no lord above

I believe in me, I believe in you

And you know I believe in love

I believe in truth though I lie a lot

I feel the pain from the push and shove

No matter what you put me through

I'll still believe in love"

............

He smiled; maybe the 80's weren't such a waste of time after all.

'I believe in me, I believe in you and you know I believe in love,' he thought as he made his way to the hotel elevator to go up to his room.

The chat with Bruno, the water, the fresh air and the music had made him feel a little better. His mind seemed somewhat clearer and he felt a little ray of hope break through the cloud of despair that had been hovering round him ever since he received Rachel's letter. Only 3 more days and he'd be home.

His body ached at the thought of being on the sand, swimming in the cold sea and making love to Rachel. Then again he thought, maybe he shouldn't be thinking about making love to Rachel any time soon.

He wanted this mess cleared up once and for all before he would let himself go there. The intoxicating thought of holding her and kissing her and being inside her again would have to wait until he was sure they actually had a future. Because her letter had made it clear to him that she didn't know what their future was.

He really, _really_ needed to stop thinking about having sex with her.

No, now he was feeling a little better, maybe he'd go and have a hot shower, order a club sandwich and a coke, and see if there was any Sponge Bob on the TV.

As much as he tried though, he couldn't help his mind wandering. 'No matter what you put me through, I'll still believe in love Rachel,' he thought to himself as the elevator doors closed silently.

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Rachel's soundtrack: Without You – Harry Nilsson

Jacob's Soundtrack: Love Action – Human League

May 19 marks the first year anniversary of the cancellation of Eleventh Hour by CBS. If you would like to support the Eleventh Hour Resurrection campaign, please visit the forum at Planet-hood dot net. The dedicated and hardworking team there, are planning to step up their campaign as the anniversary approaches and would appreciate your help.

If you're reading this fiction, I expect you miss Eleventh Hour as much as we do and would love for it to return one day. It's nice to read about Jacob & Rachel, but so much better to watch them on our TV screens every week……..


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